Page 58 of Play With Me

“I’ve got a workbench in the garage at my mom’s place,” he said, a half-beat late.

Interesting.

“Do you build things?” I asked, as casually as I could manage when I smelled blood in the water. I kicked a chunk of ice down the sidewalk.

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, Louisa. For my job. For my mom. Sometimes for fun.”

My inner shark circled. “What kinds of things?”

“Fortifications, mostly. Some demolition, but other guys specialize in that. Sometimes random stuff, too. A windblock for the smoke pit.” He shrugged. “Real heroic shit.”

He still wasn’t looking at me. On purpose.

“But what do you build for fun?” I pressed. “Like—what were you building recently that you smell like sawdust?”

That did it.

He ran a hand over the back of his head and exhaled sharply. “Can we talk about something else?” He sounded tired now, not annoyed, which somehow felt worse. “I’m exhausted.”

I nodded and kept walking, like it was fine. Like I hadn’t just been shut down.

Inside, embarrassment rushed in hot and fast. I usually didn’t care if someone thought I was too much. But I’d pushed, and it landed hard that he’d had enough of me. I took a few steps to move just slightly ahead of him.

He stopped suddenly and caught my elbow, gentle but firm.

“I’m making Christmas gifts,” he said. “I’m a bad liar, and I didn’t want to be pressed. I sanded for an hour this afternoon, while Has was napping and you and Mom were talking.”

“Oh.” I nodded. “Okay.”

It made sense. He didn’t owe me that explanation. The fact that he gave it anyway softened something in my chest. But I’d already started overthinking it. We’d just spent too many hours together. This was why I didn’t do relationships. I liked Will. I didn’t want to find reasons not to.

He watched my face for a second, then sighed.

“Let’s agree not to talk to each other at all until after we’ve slept,” he said, deadpan.

Then he mouthed, Starting now.

My breath hitched.

The silent game? I asked him with my eyebrows.

He nodded, then let a cocky smile brag, I’m going to win.

Oh, fuck no, William. I was the undisputed champion of the silent game.

Turns out Will was kind of an expert at silent communication, though. I should have seen it coming, what with the eye comms he and Christian had going the night before. We grabbed our coffees and walked the rest of the way to my studio without saying a word—still somehow joking the whole time, flipping through pictures of Baby Christian on my phone.

Will had poured all of his dad energy straight into being an honorary uncle. He’d looked almost boyish holding the baby for the first time, and I was stupidly happy I’d managed to snap a photo. Maybe I’d frame it and give it to Christian for his bookshelf.

By the time we got to my place, I was freezing my tits off. Will had given me his gloves, so I knew he had to have been even colder. The temperature inside was closer to freezing than to normal room temperature. It would be another long walk in the deep snow for either of us to get to the dorms, and we were tired.

I noticed a new hangman game drawn out on my whiteboard and took a moment to make a guess. Will pointed at it, Who’s playing? I shrugged my shoulders, No idea. He frowned and erased it with his sleeve. I flipped him the bird. He grabbed my wrist and bit my finger.

Then, silent negotiations began in earnest.

Eventually, Will rooted around in my stuff until he found a cute, green tent he and Has had bought for me when I first arrived. We worked efficiently to get it set up.

He dug around in my clothes bin until he found sweatpants, a long-sleeve shirt, and socks. I smiled and lifted my arms suggestively, wanting him to undress me. His return smile was amused, but not falling for my shit. Will shook his finger at me, Naughty naughty. I shrugged, Your loss, but I didn’t miss the way he adjusted his pants when he turned away.